


The World Turns

by Kalira



Category: Marginal Prince (Anime)
Genre: Divination, Episode Tag, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E03 Genzō no Ipuse (The Illusion of Ipse), Tarot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Henri knew all Red needed to find his feet with his acting again was a new way of looking at things - or a reminder of the old. He didn't need Henri to provide it.
Relationships: Red | Alfred Visconti/Henri-Hugues de Saint Germain
Comments: 9
Kudos: 3





	The World Turns

**Author's Note:**

> My friend [M](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse) and I are currently watching this ~~crazypants~~ anime; the idea for this story came to me the morning after we watched episodes 1-3 last week. I wrote most of it last night after we watched episodes 4-7.
> 
> Heaven knows if I'll wind up writing anything else for the rainbow bishies but we've got two more weeks to finish off the series.

Red curled the edges of the old, much-loved script against his palm as he opened the door, carefully quiet.

“You are feeling better about things.” Henri said as he stepped inside, not waiting for an invitation. It wasn’t a question, and he hadn’t yet looked up, sitting cross-legged on his luxurious bed, the midnight blue draperies tied back.

Red hummed, closing the door behind himself. “Maybe.”

Henri looked up with a faint smile, turning the card he held towards Red so he could see it clearly. Red arched his eyebrows, shrugging. It was Henri’s passion, and at times seemed to give him eerie insight - even beyond that he showed naturally - but Red had never really learned much about tarot beyond whatever Henri murmured in his ear.

“The World.” Henri said softly, shifting a little and beckoning Red closer. He approached, eyeing the card - a nude woman wound in a banner, circled by some sort of wreath and framed in each corner by animals that probably meant something. “A change of place, a journey, possibilities in a pause before a new cycle, assurance of success. . .” He smiled slightly. “You have changed your perspective . . . and you are happier now.”

Red hummed, climbing onto the bed and settling close against Henri’s side. He was soft and welcoming, though he didn’t bow, and Red tipped his head down to rest on Henri’s side, watching his elegant hands as he slid the card back into the deck and turned it over, showing only the pale blue on deeper blue pattern of the backs.

“Yuuta. . .” Red trailed his fingers over the cover page of the script, then put it down on the vibrant blue bedspread in front of them.

Cutting the deck smoothly, Henri turned over another card, but Red didn’t really make out what was on its face before he slid it smoothly back into the centre of the deck. “Tell me?” he asked, and Red sighed.

“I knew Yuuta was a fan.” Red began, frowning slightly, remembering how he’d tried pointedly to get Yuuta to drop the issue, only to be dogged by those hopeful puppyish eyes and sad face. . .

Henri was much better at brushing people off, really; if Red couldn’t get discourage them with a flare of temper he generally gave up. He didn’t have the patience, for one thing.

“I didn’t realise. . .” Red shook his head, lifting one hand and letting it drift down over Henri’s forearm and wrist. He allowed it with a hum, tilting his cards into his other hand to free the left and resting it on Red’s thigh. “He made me think of things from a different place. As you said.” He huffed a little, lips twitching, and curled his fingers around Henri’s hand, fingertips sliding over his dry palm and out along his fingers, smooth and faintly callused. “A new perspective, or- or an old one, maybe.”

“A view you appreciate?” Henri said, his tone only vaguely hinting at being a question.

Red was used to that; Henri rarely really _asked_ things, he always seemed to know your answers regardless. It didn’t really bother Red. Henri still paid attention, cared - as much as Henri cared for anything - about Red’s answers, however much he might anticipate them. Besides, it wasn’t like he knew _everything_ , he was just clever, along with whatever _gift_ it was he had from his family’s bloodline.

“Yes.” Red tipped his head, lips pursing, remembering the joy and excitement of long - even exhausting - days shooting, the fun of playing - becoming - a new part, a new person. Throwing himself into it wholeheartedly. He twined his fingers through Henri’s as he tried to put it into words, and Henri squeezed his hand, listening with an almost impassive look in his cool eyes.

Henri had probably already known this - of course Red had spoken to him of the tangle in his heart and the anger dealing with his family had brought, but Henri had probably already known what Yuuta’s naïve, hopeful pleas had made Red realise as well. He knew _Red_ , after all.

Red opened his mouth to ask - _why didn’t you talk to me about this? why wasn’t it your words that realigned my heart and not Yuuta’s?_ \- but he didn’t.

Henri shifted, flicking through his cards with his thumb. Red caught sight of a splay of swords before Henri turned them down once more, this time setting them aside.

“It is your heart’s path.” Henri said lightly. “One you would find through the thickest of twisting tangles; my words. . .”

He gestured gracefully as though to suggest something ephemeral and easy.

“I always listen to you.” Red said, though he’d resolved not to broach this. Red wasn’t good at holding his tongue, even when he chose to try, and even less so with Henri. It wasn’t as though it was Henri’s _responsibility_ ; not Red’s decisions, his feelings, or changing his mind.

“You didn’t need me.” Henri countered almost gently, turning up something Red noted had at least one cup on its face before it was hidden away beneath his palm, the deck shuffling smoothly with economical, graceful movements. “You are happy and your decision made, now. I daresay your grandfather knows, at that.”

“I always need you.” Red said, putting a hand on Henri’s knee. His hands stilled on his cards, and Red squeezed his leg lightly, leaning against him just enough to be a comfortable nudge. He always needed Henri - just not for _that_.

Henri made a thoughtful sound, eyes coming up to meet Red’s. He tried not to fidget.

Henri didn’t make him uncomfortable, of course, but Red had enough trouble remaining still to begin with, somehow meeting Henri’s cool, calculating gaze always made him feel like he would _burst_ if he didn’t move somehow.

“I would not have remained silent as you grew more dissatisfied and distressed.” Henri said softly. “You did not _need_ me to speak. If you had. . .”

Red grinned, and Henri gave a small smile.

“Indeed. No matter.” Henri tilted his head to one side. “You never need ask for it.” he added more quietly still, and Red’s throat tightened. For _him_ , Henri always watched, and would speak even if Red himself didn’t know what he needed, he thought.

“Mm.” Henri looked away, flipping three cards over swiftly and examining them for a few minutes before gathering them back into the deck. He was still paying attention, Red knew, he was just also. . .

“Henri?” Red asked before he could quite bite it back. He really was very bad at holding anything back, with Henri. He might be more bothered by it if it didn’t seem that Henri, unflappable and collected, already knew anything Red might say in such outbursts, better than half the time.

“You have a question?” Henri filled in, fingertips trailing over Red’s fingers and knuckles.

Red fidgeted, grumbling softly, low in his throat.

“Ask, Red.” Henri encouraged, with a lilting tinge of amusement that made him smile in return, feeling a touch lighter. Henri’s softer, warmer emotions were rarely offered so easily, even his laughter sharp, distant, and calculated; Red was always appreciative of those moments when they slipped him this way. “Anything.”

 _That_ , Red appreciated almost more, even. Henri was asked so many things - Red knew relatively little about the calls and requests forever flowing to Henri, but it was still quite enough - asking Henri to use his . . . mysterious talent for _knowing_ things, expecting answers. That he offered them - himself - to Red so easily. . .

He tried to be careful never to press upon that.

Regardless, that wasn’t the sort of question that had been dancing in his mind. Red rarely had that sort of question, truly - it was Henri’s gift and it was amazing, but Red didn’t really wish to lean on it by having him _tell_ Red things, lay them out for him like a spread of Henri’s cards. Red liked to do things himself, charge after them, even if it wasn’t always the smoothest course.

“What card is . . . us?” he asked, and Henri hummed softly, something that might have been surprise on anyone else. “I mean, to you?”

Henri pulled his hand back with a last caress of his fingertips over Red’s wrist. He toyed with his cards, then turned a little, showing Red the deck. He cocked his head and Henri smiled, mischievous and knowing.

“Cut it and take the card.” Henri said, and Red’s brows drew together with confusion.

Henri offered the deck a little closer, and Red complied, splitting the deck between Henri’s hands and turning the top card on what had been the lower section upwards.

A child sat astride a white horse in a field of sunflowers, carrying a banner, but Red’s eyes lingered on the sun that took up most of the card. Its calm, almost impassive expression put him in mind of Henri, though he doubted that was what Henri thought, nor what would make him connect a card with them, their relationship.

“The Sun.” Henri said, tracing his fingers over the card before sliding it back into the deck. He leaned across Red to put it on the bedside table, atop the plush blue bag he carried the cards in, when they were not kept endlessly moving in his graceful hands.

Red knew too much to ask if the card was _good_ , but he waited, watching Henri.

Henri smiled slightly, offering his hands, and Red clasped them, rubbing his thumbs over Henri’s slender fingers. “It often shines on material improvements, but at its heart its warmth is that of joy and harmonious companionship, the universe smiling upon the path walked.” He paused, tilting his head and looking away.

Red’s interest was piqued; Henri was almost never discomfited or embarrassed in the slightest. “Henri?”

“Marital fortune and contentment.” Henri finished, and Red felt himself flushing, shocking as the thought was. Red might be more easily flustered than Henri, but blushing? Embarrassed? No.

Not . . . _usually_.

This was . . . different.

“Is that how you think of us?” Red asked softly, and Henri met his eyes again, hands sliding further through his to clasp his wrists. Red gripped Henri’s wrists in turn.

Henri didn’t answer in words, but the softer light that came to his eyes as a smile curved his lips was quite enough - answer enough, at least, for Red, who knew him so well.

Red released Henri’s wrists to wrap him in an embrace instead, and Henri moved forwards against him, leaning across his chest as he let himself fall back against the pillows under Henri’s weight. Henri’s arms slid around his shoulders and Red grinned as he relaxed there, an almost playful smile tugging at his lips.

Red reached up to brush his hair out of his face, and he tilted his head, then leaned down, languidly draping himself over Red and kissing him, soft and lingering.

**Author's Note:**

> I did in fact grab a learner tarot deck and its booklet to reference while I was working on this, sitting in the dark flipping through in the light of my backlit keyboard and laptop screen. XD


End file.
